Operation Killer
by Simba Kid
Summary: On hiatus till I get my lazy ass in gear. Carmelita is given a new, dangerous assignment, and Sly decides to tag along to give his favorite Inspector a hand. Together, they work to defeat Asia's most dangerous gang. Rated 'T' for future chapters
1. Chapter 1: A New Case

Simba here: I decided to write a longer Sly Cooper fic after the last one got some awesome reviews. Well, here goes something.

Disclaimer: Sly Cooper and all the other characters are property of Sucker Punch Inc., not me.

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Chapter 1: A New Case

"Well, if it isn't Cooper's girl?" a female constable said as Carmelita Montoya Fox walked by her, making sure to emphasize the latter part of her sentence. The vixen whipped around to face the unfortunate antelope. This one was developing an unfortunate habit of taking every opportunity to annoy Carmelita. "Can it, Amanda!" she shouted in her spicy Latino accent.

Amanda smirked at the fiery Carmelita's response. "Well, I can see the thief likes girls with attitude. Guess it turns him on. Speaking of which, is he good?" she continued, which irked Carmelita far beyond the danger point. The Spanish inspector took a few slow, deliberate steps up to where the Amanda was standing.

Carmelita towered over the short constable, and that coupled with the expression of rage she was wearing, was quite intimidating. The now frightened Amanda started to slowly back away before she could dig herself any deeper into the hole she'd dug for herself. But it was too little, too late.

Carmelita cracked her knuckles rather loudly, and yelled at the cowering antelope. "Shut the hell up!" The vixen shouted. She then punched the constable straight in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her lungs.

Amanda was now lying on the ground, gasping for air. Carmelita was satisfied with her work, and so turned around and continued to her original destination: her office.

Once the vixen reached the red door to her office, she grabbed the brass doorknob and yanked it open.

Finally, she was in the safe confines of her personal room. Carmelita let out an exhausted sigh and slumped down, till she was setting with her back to the door. "What did I do to deserve this?" she asked to nobody. The downhearted vixen put her head in her hands, and started to cry.

At first, she didn't know why she was crying. Perhaps she was all the crap her fellow Interpol officers threw in her face. Perhaps it was the countless times she'd spent entire nights looking through case files, working twice as hard as every other officer. Or perhaps, it was that she was lonely. Plain and simple loneliness. Ever since her parents had died, she'd been alone.

No friends. No family. Nobody. _Except Sly_, said a voice in the back of her head. She'd often heard that voice before. She heard it whenever Sly said some flirty comment, trying to convince her that it was more than just a pickup line. For some reason, she always felt… safe around him.

Sure, to the outsider, how he acted would just seem like nothing more than 'flirty chit-chat', but beneath all that, Carmelita knew he really cared for her. Or at least, she hoped so. He'd saved her multiple times, despite the personal risks, and had never once taken advantage of her, in any way whatsoever. He'd treated her better than any other man in her life, albeit, that wasn't saying much.

Sly was the closest thing to a friend she had. After their talk aboard the helicopter, she felt like she got to know him. And she found it was nice to actually _talk _to someone without them insulting her or paying less attention to what she was saying and more to her attractive features. Sure, she never expected it to be Sly Cooper, but, he _had_ saved her a year prior, and he _did_ help her bust some high-level criminals, which had probably saved her job on multiple occasions. She owed him that much.

Little did she know, the very raccoon who she was thinking was perched on the rooftop of the building across from her, watching with worried eyes as she cried her eyes out. Watching Carmelita was often a hobby of his, but never, ever had he seen her cry. It made him feel sad, and helpless.

Carmelita put more effort into her job than anyone, and for what? So she could be insulted by everyone at Interpol for failing to catch one criminal? Other officers were praised if they could do half as well as she did. To be threaten with being fired if she failed to catch him one more time? Nobody else had even come close to him. Carmelita deserved better than this.

The buzzing of Sly's binoccucom nearly caused him to fall off the building edge. He picked up the red communicator and answered it. "Yeah Bentley?" he asked. "Sly, where are you?" the turtle asked, sounding seriously ticked off. "Oh, just watching my favorite Inspector," he said with an unseen grin. "Sly, get your tail back her now," he ordered coldly. "Okay, I'll be back in fifteen minutes," the raccoon answered. He then put the device away.

Meanwhile, Carmelita had dried her eyes and dragged herself to her desk and dropped into her chair. Before her sat the familiar stack of papers, and she sighed, knowing she would probably be staying here for another three hours.

So, she started sifting through the papers, most of it being hate mail from female officers, and inappropriate invites from the male ones, all of which she promptly shoved into the trashcan adjacent to her desk.

Them, something caught Carmelita's attention. It was a rather large, tan envelope, marked "Classified". She opened the envelope and pulled out its contents. In it was a mug shot of a rather ugly gorilla, which was attached via a paperclip to several papers, the first of which was a letter addressed to her from Chief Barkley.

_Dear Inspector Fox,_

_I have decided that you need a temporary break from the Cooper case. Attached is all the information we have, both public and classified, that Interpol possesses on an anarchist group called Killer centered in Southern Asia, though their members come from all over the world. _

_Also attached is a photo of Moe Jacobs. As far as evidence goes, he's the leader. However, his psych eval doesn't match up to that of someone who could mastermind a group this big. Our guess is that he's working with someone else, someone with experience in organizing manpower, possibly someone in the military. _

_Your mission is to infiltrate their ranks and capture this mystery man. Once he's out of the picture, the group will fall apart. If you succeed, you will be promoted to captain. You're plane for Beijing will leave at 8:00AM sharp. I'll be expecting progress reports every week. Good luck, Inspector._

_Chief Robert Barkley_

Carmelita sighed and dropped the paper-clipped papers back on the desk and leaned back in her chair. _Well, I've always wanted to go to Asia _she thought with a smile.

Outside the office, Sly was intently scanning the papers on Carmelita's desk through his binoccucom. _An anarchist group? Don't they send teams out for this sort of thing? Carmelita is gonna need my help on this one _he thought to himself.

The raccoon pressed a couple buttons on his communicator, and spoke into it. "Bent, pack your bags; where going to China." "What!" the turtle blurted out. "You heard me: get three tickets for the next plane to Beijing. Carmelita got assigned a new case, and I think she'll need our help," Sly explained. "No," Bentley said, his tone turning cold. "Sly, were not helping Inspector Fox again. If she doesn't catch you, some other Interpol officer will. Or did you forget that you are _the _most wanted thief in the world? Every police officer has your face memorized. We can't afford to take unnecessary risks."

Sly could tell convincing his friend wouldn't be easy. "Bentley, this isn't your ordinary counterfeit operation, it's practically a whole army. From what I can gather, a terrorist group called Killer is causing trouble, and Carmelita's job to break it up. If we don't help her, she could end up dead," he said in a serious tone.

Bentley sighed. "Is it really that bad?" he asked, sounding a bit more amenable. "Yes," Sly answered, not letting up. "Well, okay, but try not to get caught," Bentley said in a resigned tone. "Thanks pal," Sly said. "Don't mention it, please," the turtle said dryly. "Alright, let's start packing," Sly finished, and then darted off back across the dark rooftops of Paris back to his safehous.

Back in Carmelita's office, the vixen was pouring over the info sent to her. The Chinese police hadn't given her much to work with. "No surprise there," Carmelita said to herself dryly. It was true; even with the limited experience in international affairs that she had, she'd learned that China had an ongoing problem with keeping crime in check. As if things weren't bad enough there. (A/N: Listen, I don't hate China or anything, but I had to have some country in this position, and China is having internal affairs issues. But I'm not a racist or anything)

_This is gonna be a long assignment _Carmelita thought to herself. She slumped back in her chair once more with an exasperated sigh. _Sometimes I hate this job _

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(A/N: Well, that's the first chapter. Good? Bad? Reviews are appreciated, but flames will be ignored.)


	2. Chapter 2: Departure Time

Chapter 2: Departure Time

_BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BE-_thud

Carmelita smashed her alarm clock with the palm of her hand, silencing it. "Ugh, I hate that damn thing," she said groggily. Her sleep schedule left much to be desired, and the prospect of a twelve hour flight didn't brighten her mood much. The vixen groaned, and pulled herself up from her comfortable bed, brushing a few strands of her raven-black hair back behind her pointed ear. She briefly went over her morning in her mind.

She'd have about 30 minutes before she'd have to leave for the airport, during which she'd have to take a shower, get dressed, eat breakfast, brush her teeth, and put her bags in the trunk.

Carmelita decided she'd start with a shower, figuring it to the last bit of relaxation she'd get for a while. She slid her legs out from under the covers and placed her paws on the carpeted floor.

Shedding her slim, white nightgown, she entered her shower and turned on the water. Carmelita sighed happily at the soothing sensation of the water caressing her fur. Taking a shower was one of the few luxurious she had time for anymore.

_Since you got Cooper's case _she thought bitterly. While she did spend an unbelievable amount of time working Sly's case, even she couldn't deny that some parts of it were actually rather enjoyable.

_Like the way he talks to you, and how he-_.

_Shut UP! Cooper's a damn thief!_

Carmelita put her paws to her head, trying to calm the battle currently raging in her mind. Every day, the two sides of her mind shouted back and forth at each other to the point of insanity. Many a night, she'd tossed in her sleep, debating against herself about Cooper.

But, for now, she'd momentarily silenced her chaotic mind and managed to earn a few precious moments of peace.

Once she'd finished her shower, Carmelita dried herself off and put on her trademark jeans, jacket and halter top. She decided that she'd save time a get a snack at the airport, and skipped straight to brushing her teeth.

Finally, she grabbed her two bags and tossed them in the trunk of her car. The vixen then walked back around to the front of her car and got in. Slowly, she backed out of the driveway and out into the street, under the watchful eyes of Sly Cooper.

The thief was perched in one of the trees outside Carmelita's house, waiting for Carmelita to leave. Once her car was out of sight, he pulled out his binoccucom and called Bentley. "Okay, Bent, she's gone. Let's move," he said into the device.

On the other line, Bentley was getting things ready for the flight. The plan was simple: Sly, Murray, and himself would, in disguise of course, would board the plane, fly to Beijing and set up a safehouse on the outskirts of town. That was phase one. Once that was accomplished, they'd start on the actual case.

"Okay Murray, let's go," the turtle said to his hippo companion. "Alright Bentley." Murray started the van and slowly drove around the corner, eventually letting it stop in front of Carmelita's house.

Sly dropped from his perch and dashed silently to the van. Once inside, the three thieves started off to the airport.

When the Cooper gang arrived, they split up and checked their bags individually. Even though they were in disguise, they couldn't take the chance that one of the airport guards would recognize them.

It was decided that they would go one after another, with a five minute interval between their arrivals.

Sly was the first to go to the gate. When he arrived, he saw Carmelita sitting in one of the many chairs spread out across the room. She was sitting with her head resting against her paw, gazing dreamily out the window.

He walked over and sat down next to her, looking out the window. Without turning to her he spoke. "Thinkin' about someone special, missy?" he asked in a voice not his own.

The policewoman turned her attention to the elderly raccoon seated next to her. "Yeah, I guess you could say that," she answered demurely. Truthfully, she was thinking about Cooper again. She just couldn't figure him out.

"Your boyfriend?" Sly pressed further. He might as well have a chat with her while he had the chance.

"Sometimes I wish he were," she said, "and sometimes I wish I could wring his neck." Sly chuckled at her response.

"What's the fella's name?" he asked.

"You'd laugh if I told you," Carmelita answered dryly.

"What makes you think that?" Sly tried to fake a slightly hurt voice.

"Well, I'm a cop, and the guy is a thief," Carmelita admitted.

"Now, that is a new one! A thief and a cop; who'd a thunk it?" Sly exclaimed.

"Yeah. It wouldn't be so bad, except for all my coworkers think I'm sleeping with the guy, and my boss is always one moment away from firing because of him," Carmelita explained.

"You still haven't answered my first question: who's the guy?" a disguised Sly asked.

"His name is Sly Cooper," Carmelita said softly.

"Hey, I heard o' him! Ain't he that thief?" Sly asked.

"Yeah, that's him alright," Carmelita answered.

"Well, if he gives you so much trouble, why don't you hate his guts?" Sly asked again, listening intently.

"I don't know myself. Yeah, he does give me a lot of crap, but he has helped me a great deal in the past by assisting in the capture of other criminals. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have my job right now," Carmelita answered, deciding to leave out the part about Sly's constant compliments about her figure.

"Certainly sounds like quite a character," Sly commented.

"You don't know the half of it," Carmelita muttered.

"Attention, will all passengers for flight 742 please board the plane at this time," a monotone voice said over the P.A.

"Well, sounds like it's time to get movin'" Sly noted.

As they were walking down the catwalk and onto the plane, Sly tried to get whatever information he could get about her plans. "So, what're ya doin' in Beijing?" he asked, still making sure to disguise his voice.

"I'm working a case. More than that, I'm afraid I can't say," Carmelita answered nonchalantly.

"What, is it the old 'if I told you I'd have to kill you' policy," Sly asked, chuckling.

"Something like that," Carmelita responded. Personally, she didn't give a damn whether or not this guy new about Killer, but she still valued her job enough not to be stupid. "How 'bout you?" she asked the elderly raccoon.

"I, uh, I'm visiting my nephew. He's a … business consultant for, uh, IBM," Sly said, trying to make his explanation sound convincing. He hadn't expected having to explain himself, and breathed a silent sigh of relief when Carmelita seemed to believe him.

The raccoon spotted Bentley and Murray in the stream of people boarding the aircraft. The turtle was disguised as a professor of some kind, and Murray looked like… Sly couldn't really tell what his friend was trying to look like. Whatever he was supposed to be, he didn't look like himself.

Carmelita's seat was towards the front of the aircraft, Sly was actually sitting right beside her, Bentley was right over the wing, and Murray was in the very back of the plane. Of course, Murray's sitting in the back was probably a good thing, considering the massive amount of soda he drank made it necessary to answer the 'call of nature' on multiple occasions.

Once the plane was in the air, Bentley wasted no time in pulling out his laptop and hacking into Interpol's website, looking for information on Carmelita's case. He managed to get much of the information that she had, and, after researching the layout of the city, found the perfect site for a safehouse.

Carmelita elected that it was best to get in whatever sleep she could get. It wasn't look before she was snoozing softly in her chair.

At first, Sly took to watching his favorite Interpol officer sleep peacefully, but eventually, he also succumbed to the warm embrace of sleep.

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(A/N: Two down, a lot to go. Sorry if the chapter seemed uneventful. Anyway, where I am, it's 11:31 AM, so goodnight)


	3. Chapter 3: Hello, Beijing

Chapter 3: Hello, Beijing

(A/N: Sorry for the long wait between updates. Here it is. Also, I haven't the faintest idea about the actual layout of the city of Beijing, so this probably isn't accurate to any degree)

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Sly was roused from his rather erotic dream, which happened to involve himself and Carmelita, by the bumpy landing of the 737. He felt the familiar sensation of being pressed against his seat and being tossed into the air at random intervals. Finally, the plane came to a stop near the terminal.

He turned to his left, and saw that Carmelita was still asleep. Sly was amazed she could sleep through the rocky landing. The vixen had her head resting gently against her hand, snoring ever so slightly.

_She's really cute when she's asleep _Sly thought to himself with a smile. _How ironic that such a fiery woman looks so cute. _Unfortunately for him, though, Carmelita started to wake. She yawned, wiping the sleep out of her eyes.

"Sleep well, missy?" Sly asked.

"First decent sleep I had in months," Carmelita answered dryly.

"Courtesy of your crush, Mr. Cooper, I presume?" Sly asked with a smile.

"Quite you, but yes, Cooper has been responsible for my constant all-nighters," Carmelita said, but in a good-natured tone, and then realized that she didn't even now this guy's name. "Hey, what's your name anyway?" she asked.

"I'm Sl- Syl…vester. Yeah, Sylvester Moore," Sly stuttered out a lie.

"I'm Inspector Carmelita Montoya Fox," the vixen said, extending her hand. Sly shook it firmly.

"Attention passengers: the captain has docked the aircraft and you are now free to depart," the sweet voice of the female flight attendant said over the P.A.

Sly, Carmelita, and everyone else on the aircraft eagerly unbuckled their seatbelts and stretched their legs after the long flight. "Oy, I hate long flights," Sly sighed, moving out into the aisle.

"I hear ya," Carmelita commented and followed Sly out into the flood of animals. Sly had to shove his way past several animals in order to get out of the plane and onto the catwalk.

The airport terminal was a high-ceilinged room lined with huge windows looking out to the multiple runways. Monitors with departure and arrival times occupied small alcoves above a large counter with travel agents standing behind it. The gate Sly and Carmelita came out of was on the other side of the room.

"Well, I guess I'll see ya later, missy," he called to Carmelita as she started to walk away.

"Okay then, goodbye," she waved back and joined the mass heading towards the baggage claim.

Sly smiled to himself. Chatting with Carmelita was quite enjoyable. It brought back memories of the helicopter ride they'd shared after Clock-La's defeat. Talking with Carmelita was a completely uplifting experience. She showed a side that Sly had not seen before; a sensitive and compassionate side, sharing the same body as that aggressive side that she always had on while chasing him.

"Have a nice flight?" said a sarcastic, but familiar voice from behind Sly. The thief turned to see Bentley standing behind him, laptop in hand, tapping his foot impatiently on the ground. Murray lumbered up to his companions, having finally been able to push through the mass of people.

The three friends walked down the long hallway of the terminal to the baggage claim, and after recovering their possessions, proceeded to the car rental section of the terminal. After all, they needed a getaway vehicle, and they couldn't very well take the van. Bentley, who spoke enough Mandarin to workout the transaction, secured the gang a van similar their own. It was, however, newer, which suited Bentley just fine. He and Murray had an ongoing war about the condition of the team's trademark van; Murray refused to clean it, claiming it gave the vehicle a sort of personality, whereas Bentley complained that it would interfere with the efficiency of the operation. Sly chose to sit on the sidelines and watch. Once the van had been procured, they set out for their soon-to-be safehouse.

Murray sped the black van through the bustling streets of Beijing, listening intently to Bentley's instructions. "So Bent, where are we going, anyway?" Sly asked, referring to the location of their safehouse.

"There's a large district of abandoned apartments about half an hour out from the heart of the city. After researching the layout of the city, I've deduced that that should be the location of our safehouse," Bentley answered.

And so, the three thieves sped ever closer to their temporary new home.

Meanwhile, Carmelita was driving in the opposite direction to the Beijing police station. If she was going to find any leads on her case, she'd need all the help she could get.

_Including Sly's, _she thought subconsciously.

Carmelita sighed; there was no chance Cooper would be here, now. This case wouldn't be nearly as interesting as her others, without him. Then again, perhaps time away from the Cooper case would give her time to clear her thoughts and finally figure out what went one in that grey head of his.

He was truly an enigma. What was his ulterior motive? Did he really care for her? She hoped so. She was so tired of spending her life alone with no-one to call her own, no-one to lean on.

She was like a freestanding tower: without the proper support, she would soon collapse. And right now, she was very near toppling. If she was going to keep herself from going completely mental, she'd have to do something fast.

Unfortunately, figuring out exactly what it was that she would do would have to wait, as the she pulled up to what appeared to be the police station. It was a simple, yet large, brick building, rising up two stories off the pavement, offering a sharp contrast from the towering, shabby buildings that populated the majority of the bustling city.

Carmelita parked her car and stepped out onto the busy sidewalk. Hundreds of animals were running in both directions in front of her, all heading to hundreds of different locations.

The vixen strode confidently to the large, dark wood double doors, and pushed them in. The lobby of the police station was a one-story high, grey walled room filled with various officers of the law running about, filing papers into their appropriate trays on desks, leading muscle-bound criminals to the holding cell until they could be transported to a jail or the courthouse, or questioning suspects in the multiple interrogation rooms.

Carmelita knew that the method the Chinese conducted investigations left much to be desired, but they probably had a good amount of leads on Killer. After reading through the file, she found that the officer in charge of the case was a snow leopard by the name of Captain In-Young Jo.

Carmelita grabbed a young mongoose who ran passed her and asked her where she could find Captain Jo. He, in less than perfect English, explained that his office was upstairs. Carmelita thanked him, and proceeded up the flight of stairs to the second story.

The second floor was much less chaotic than the first. Instead of a jumble of animals running about, this floor was occupied by two offices that stood facing each other on opposite sides of the room, forming a hallway between the two. There was also a dramatic change in the color of the room. Instead of dull, stone grey, the walls were a bright gold color, and red carpeting coated the floor.

Carmelita's booted paws barely made a sound as she walked slowly on the plush carpeting towards the doors. On one door was Chinese lettering that she couldn't decipher, and on the other was another set, its meaning was just as ambiguous. She tapped on the door to her left, figuring she had a fifty-fifty chance of getting the right office.

When no-one answered, she knocked louder. Still, nobody came, so she opened the door. To her surprise, it was unoccupied.

From behind her, she heard a door open. The inspector turned around, and saw a short, skinny snow leopard with a thin face and high cheekbones looking at her.

"Ah, Inspector Fox, I presume? I've been with expecting you. I am Captain In-Young Jo," he said in a very heavy Chinese accent.

"Yeah, I'm Carmelita," she answered, extending a slender hand.

"It is an honor to meet you. I've heard a great deal about you," Captain Jo replied, shaking her hand.

Deciding to get straight to the point, Carmelita spoke. "So, do you have any leads on Killer?" she asked.

"Dozens. However, I'm afraid that most of them are… how do you put it? Oh yes, 'wild-goose chases," the leopard answered.

"Well, might as well get started looking through what you've got," Carmelita said with a sigh.

"Very well. All the files are on the computers. You can use the computer in the other office, if you'd like," he said.

"Thanks. Well, I'll get started," Carmelita finished, and with that, she closed the door to the office, sat down at the computer, and prepared herself for what would probably be at least a six hour block of staring at a computer screen.

"There, that's the spot," Bentley said in his characteristically nasally voice, pointing a green finger at a run-down apartment complex rapidly approaching on the right.

Murray pulled the van over to the area Bentley directed, and parked. Everyone piled out, relieved to finally be at their destination.

The thieves walked in the double doors, blowing up billowing clouds of dust in the process, and ascended the stairs to the upper floor. Bentley pushed opened the door, smiling proudly at once more, finding the team a temporary safe-haven.

Sly took a moment to size up the place; the apartment had obviously been out of use for quite some time, and time had taken its toll. The walls were darkened and covered in graffiti. Some of the windows were broken, and there were holes in the roof.

But for all that, it looked promising. It had more than enough room for the three, some furniture was left, including a sofa, table and set of chairs, a bed and nightstand. There was even a TV in front of the sofa, which Murray promptly tested, and found that it worked. The open patches in the roof wouldn't be hard to fix.

"First things first, we need to get this place cleaned up," Bentley said. "Murray, I need you to go to the store and purchase some four-by-fours, nails and a hammer for the roof, a couple of lamps and a microwave, and whatever else you need. Sly, you and I will start getting everything unpacked. Once were done, will start on the business of breaking up this gang. Let's get started," Bentley instructed.

The team set about their various tasks, each knowing that the daunting task of taking on the closest thing to the Chinese mafia loomed in the near future.

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(A/N: Well, things are starting to move along now. Hopefully, the next chapter will be up soon.

Simba out)


	4. Chapter 4: Desire Without Hope

Chapter 4

"Hey Bent, where do you want this, uh… thing?" Sly asked after pulling out what looked vaguely like an oversized CPU with a couple of camera lenses from one of the suitcases.

"Be careful with that! Just set in down _gently _on that table. And for the love of God, don't drop it!" Bentley snapped, dropping the clothes he was pulling out.

"What's so special about it?" The raccoon asked after putting down the device.

"That, my furry friend, is my latest and most explosive invention: the Demolisher," the midget turtle said proudly, crossing his arms across his shelled chest.

"Nice name," Sly said sarcastically. "What's it for?"

"I have no idea," Bentley said with a smirk,

Sly was stunned. "You built it and you don't even know what it does?" he gawked.

"Use your ears, Sly. I said I don't know what it's _for. _I never said I don't know what it does," the brainy turtle said cryptically.

"Okay then, what does it _do_?" Sly asked.

"Well, that thing is programmed to, upon command, photograph whatever structure you want to blow up, calculate the necessary amount of explosives needed based on weight it's under, strength of the material, and more or less every other factor you can think of, and destroy it. For example, let's say there's a safe, containing a delicate glass sculpture, sitting in a room with a Fort Knox-strength vault door protecting its contents. Now, suppose you are on the floor below; you simply use the Demolisher to select the proper bomb, and blow out the ceiling. Now, once the safe is in you possession, you need to open it. Only then, you discover that the lock is too complex to pick on the spot, and guards are approaching. Again, the Demolisher calculates the bomb power needed, you blow out the lock, take the sculpture, and run," Bentley explained.

"Wow, that's pretty awesome," an amazed Sly said.

"Of course, there's a catch," Bentley said, taking on a slightly more serious tone.

"And what's that?" Sly questioned.

"You've only got a few bombs; in order to get that thing past airport security, I had to design the explosives in the Demolisher in an… unconventional manner. Instead of using your traditional bombs, the Demolisher carries a homemade chemical that, on its own, is completely harmless. However, when you combine the chemical inside with a common household item, it creates a chemical reaction which results in an explosion," Bentley answered.

"That doesn't explain the reason it's a one-time-deal," Sly pointed out.

"Calm down, I was just getting to that," Bentley replied. "What I was about to say is that the Demolisher is actually made up of several different sections, each the shape of a box. Each of these boxes is about 5 cubic centimeters. Once the computer in the Demolisher determines the explosive power needed, it measures out the appropriate amount of the necessary components, places them within the selected box, detaches said box, and viola, you have your custom-made bomb. Inside the box is a thin strip of metal, which divides the space into two different cavities, thus separating the two chemicals until the time of detonation. The metal strip is a specially designed alloy, which will incinerate itself upon detonation. The heat it provides helps give the explosion more kick. In addition, the inside walls of the box help properly insulate the material; the chemicals need to be kept at the proper temperature. To summarize, it's the material that the Demolisher is made out of that gives you limited use," the turtle explained.

"Okay…," Sly said slowly, reeling from the lengthy explanation. The raccoon wasn't stupid, but he was no chemist either.

"Anyway, don't waste any of this. It took me 8 months to perfect," Bentley finished.

Just then, the hulking form of Murray entered the door, carrying repair supplies. "Hey guys. I got the stuff," he said.

"Good. Now we can start turning this place into a proper safehouse. Murray, you and Sly should start fixing the holes in the roof. I'll hook up all the appliances you've purchased," Bentley instructed.

"Uh… we don't have a ladder," Murray pointed out.

"Don't worry about it. Just give me a boost onto the roof," Sly said.

"Okay," Murray folded his massive hands, providing Sly with a lift up. The raccoon hoisted his slim form through the largest of the holes in the roof. Outside, the weather was overcast, with a light rain starting to fall, dampening the Master Thief.

"Sly, hurry up and fix that damn roof before the whole place floods!" Bentley shouted from somewhere within the apartment Of course, he was overreacting to an extreme; there wasn't enough water falling through the roof to fill a small cup of water, let alone a spacious apartment.

Sly smiled at his friend's nervousness. "Maybe I'll just stay up here and take a well-needed shower. Tell you what, wake me up in 5 minutes and I'll see how I feel," he said sarcastically.

"Sly! Quit screwing around and get to work!" the turtle shouted, now louder than before. Like always, Bentley was a stickler for efficiency and going according to previously laid plans. Sly thought it prudent to make the necessary repairs before his green friend had an anxiety attack.

"Hey Murray, could you pass me the hammer, a few boards and the nail box?" Sly asked down to his large companion.

"Sure Sly," the hippo turned away for a moment to retrieve the requested supplies, and then handed them back up the hole to Sly, "Here they are."

And so, hammer in hand, Sly began the task of covering the holes in the roof, rain slowly soaking through his shirt into his fur, sending the occasional chill down his spine.

In a different part of the city, one just as drenched from the evening rain, Carmelita Fox sieved through countless files on various criminals in hopes of finding someone with a link to Killer. So far, though, her search had been in vain.

The vixen glanced out the window of her office. It was raining. She sighed and leaned back in her chair, resting her eyes after the fruitless hours of reading. Clearly, whoever the brains of the organization were knew how to cover their tracks.

Carmelita heard footsteps just outside her door, which she assumed belonged to Captain Jo. The snow leopard rapped his knuckles softly on the wooden door. "Come in," Carmelita said in response, bringing her chair back to the ground and opening her eyes.

Jo opened the door and poked his head around the door. "Excuse me, Inspector. It's getting late. You should get some sleep," he said in his heavy Chinese accent.

"Okay," Carmelita sighed, which turned into a yawn. "See ya tomorrow," she said as she stood up from her desk and walked out the door past the shorter officer. After descending the stairs and walking out of the door, Carmelita took out her palm-pilot and checked the address of her pre-booked hotel, which was fortunately only ten minutes away.

Carmelita drove home quickly, spurred on by the increasingly harsh rain. She pulled up in front of a building similar in design to the police station, except this one was three stories. Other than that, it seemed identical; a sturdy brick structure that looked to have been around long enough.

"Well, they could've done worse," the vixen said to herself as she slid out of her car.

The rain beat down hard against the downtrodden inspector, who was clothed only in her jeans, halter top, and jacket, which did little to stop the torrential downpour.

Dashing the few meters to the doors entrance, she jerked on the doors hard, but to no avail. For some reason, they were locked. "Damn it," she cursed. Being stuck outside during a storm was definitely not a good way to start.

She pulled the handles, again getting no result. "Who the hell leaves a hotel door locked?" Carmelita asked nobody. "Well, maybe there's a back door," she concluded, and so she walked away from the double doors, and back around the alley, totally unaware of the four shadowy figures that followed…

Meanwhile, Sly Cooper was growing increasingly frustrated as the rain beat down mercilessly, making the hammer, the nails, and the roof on which he stood, slippery and treacherous. The sky had darkened, but the moon was blocked by the clouds, reducing the only light to that of the streetlamps which glowed feebly in the dismal night below.

The thief had to be careful to not strike his fingers with the hammer. A broken set of fingers was the last thing he needed. Sly had covered all but one of the holes, and was more then ready to finish.

"Sly, you almost done?" an exasperated Bentley shouted for the hundredth time in the past half-hour, making Sly growl lowly in frustration.

The raccoon didn't bother to answer. Instead, he picked up the last three boards and skirted timidly across to where the last hole lay. Placing the drenched wood against the shabby roof, he pounded four nails into each corner, securing it in place and reducing the breach to less than a square foot. He repeated the act for the second board, and finally the third.

His task complete, Sly wiped his gloved hand across his brow, sloshing the water that had gathered atop his hat off to the side. He glanced around, and found the drainpipe which would serve as his means to descend.

The thief knew that he would never be able to climb down the pipe, courtesy of the all-consuming rain, so, instead, he hooked the head of the infamous cane (which he had carried up with him out of force of habit) around the rusted pipe and leapt from the roof. The cane swung him back around to the building, and Sly landed his feet on the slightly crumbling wall with a dull 'thud'.

Making sure to pull hard enough on the cane to provide himself with support, Sly slowly backpedaled his way down the wall, sliding the cane down the pipe as needed. This act brought forth a screech of protest from the pipe, as it was covered in red-hued rust.

Fortunately for his ears, Sly didn't need to reach the ground, only the window, which was now only a few feet away. Tentatively, he reached out and groped for the window sill, not wanting to take his eyes off the pipe, lest something to wrong. Sly slid his hand across the old brick wall, searching in vain for the jutting edge of the window.

Carefully, Sly slid his gloved paw down the handle a few inches, giving him more room to feel for the entrance. Again, it yielded nothing. The raccoon gave off all the slack he had, till his paw was at the end of the cane. The thief cursed under his breath as, once more, his blind groping had gotten him no closer to the comfort of the apartment.

Tired, wet, and seriously cheesed off, the raccoon was forced to glance down at below him.

Naturally, it was in this moment when the pipe to which he was holding on, so to speak, broke. Sly could feel the break, and shot his glance up just in time to see the building fall away as he fell the full two stories down.

Fear overpowered Sly's senses as he spiraled downwards. Normally, he would simply curl his legs under his body and land harmlessly upon the ground in a crouching position, but now, he was falling with his back to the ground. He desperately tried to turn his body, but he didn't have the time. The fall would surely break his back. The soon-to-be retired Master Thief closed his eyes and braced himself.

But rather than smashing into the hard ground, he landed in a dumpster adjacent to the building. While the garbage was by no means soft, it was considerably softer than the concrete ground that he would have been splattered on should he have missed the dumpster.

"Oh, man, that hurt," Sly half-moaned as he sat up, a banana peel falling off his head. Pulling himself out of the dumpster, Sly felt a sharp pain run down his spine; a souvenir from his fall.

The pouring rain consumed the drenched raccoon once more as he stepped onto the pavement. He looked up into the cloudy sky, thinking.

_When will I be able to tell Carmelita how I feel? _

That very question had trouble Sly for countless months. For so long, she'd been chasing him, day and night, without rest or respite, and all the while, Sly had thought that his feelings for the Latino vixen were one-sided. And with good reason; Why would anyone in their right mind fell anything but complete and total hatred for someone that frustrated and consumed them as Sly did Carmelita.

But since his conversation with Carmelita on the plane, Sly had suddenly realized that she felt the same way. For both of them, it was desire without hope. After all, how could a cop and a thief ever have any kind of romantic relationship.

If only things had been a little different. If Sly's ancestors had not devoted their lives to thieving, and had burdened him with the same responsibility, he could be with Carmelita. This wasn't to say he reproached his ancestors. Rather, he would never have known Carmelita if it wasn't for him stealing. But it was a curse as well as a blessing. So long as he was a thief, devoted to breaking the law, and she was a cop, sworn to uphold it, they would have to live apart.

_Maybe this case will change things _Sly hoped feebly. True, there was little chance that, after this, she wouldn't go back to chasing him and his friends everywhere they went. But he could always hope.

Suddenly, a shrill scream split the air. It was a gut-wrenching sound, the sound of pure terror. The raccoon looked around franticly to find its source, but whoever was screaming was nowhere it sight.

Now fairly alarmed, Sly ran out into the street. "Hello, is anybody out there?" he shouted against the fierce rain. Again, he found nothing. Without thinking, he ran off in what he made out to be the general direction in which the screams were coming from.

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(A/N: Done. Sorry for not updating in like a month and a half. Please review

Simba out)


	5. Chapter 5: Ambush

Chapter 5

Sly's heart thundered in his chest as he dashed through the bone-chilling rain to the source of the screaming, cane in hand. His lungs and legs burned from the prolonged exertion. How far he'd gone, it was impossible to tell.

"Is anybody out there?" he shouted for the hundredth time. His frustration built as he searched blindly for the victim of what sounded like a terrible crime. That something horrible was happening, and that he was powerless to do anything about it, was infuriating to the raccoon.

Then, he heard it. It was so faint, it was a miracle it wasn't drowned out by the rain (no pun intended.) Against the raging tempest, Sly heard a response to his cry.

"Help me, Sly!" the voice echoed through the streets, now frighteningly close.

The thief froze in his tracks. He recognized the voice. He knew who was being attacked.

_Carmelita!_

"Carmelita, where are you?" he shouted, desperate to help the lovely vixen.

"Sly… help… me," Carmelita's voice was fading.

"Carmelita! Hang on, I'm coming!" Sly panicked. If he didn't find Carmelita soon, odds are she'd be dead. He could not let that happen.

The globe-hopping adventures they shared as Sly recovered page after page of the Thevious Raccoonus, the dance they shared in India, their recent conversation on the plane, those were some of the best moments of his life. If she was taken away, he'd collapse. Carmelita was all he had in this world, other than his friends, and they were well, them. Without her, the world just didn't hold the shine it once had. She was more than the reason he kept stealing… She was the reason he kept living.

He flew down the street, desperate to find the vixen, glancing down the alleys, looking for Carmelita and her attackers.

Minutes that seemed to stretch on for eternities passed. He just couldn't run fast enough. What if he reached her and she was…? No, he couldn't afford to think about that. He couldn't bear the heartache.

Buildings flew by in a blur, all showing now signs of the vixen. _Where the hell is she? _Sly thought.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eyes, he thought he saw… yes there she was, in the dark alley beside some hotel. Sly screeched to a halt and spun to his left, getting a full view of the vixen, and her attackers.

"Carmelita!" he shouted, eyes wide in terror. She was sitting with her back to the wall, her head slumped forward. From where he was standing, Sly could see a ribbon of blood gushing from her temple. "Carmelita, I'm coming!" he ran into the few meters into the alley, with all the speed he had left.

Only then did he turn his attention to the other occupants of the darkened alley. He could make out three of them, one standing over the Inspector, and two behind him, looking on. The two in the background were large, burly Tosa dogs, clad in three-piece suits and sun-glasses, both of which stood a good foot and a half taller than Sly. The third, the one standing directly over Carmelita, was a pug, short and chubby.

To Sly's horror, the pug drew forth a .45 Magnum from his coat, and pointed it at the head of Inspector Fox.

"Get away from her!" Sly shouted in anger, pulling back his cane for what would be a skull-splitting blow to the head of the pug.

This new intrusion drew the attention of all three attackers, and that of the dazed Carmelita Fox. The pug smiled maliciously, and said something in Japanese, or maybe it was Chinese; Sly couldn't tell.

The Tosas standing behind him each put one paw on his shoulder, and leapt the whole height of the building, landing on top of the adjacent building.

"What the hell?" Sly said quietly as he looked on, totally amazed by the spectacle he had just witnessed. Nobody could jump a two story building, nobody. So how did they just…?

"Sly?" a weak voice said, drawing Sly's attention. It was Carmelita. Well, what was left of her.

She had managed to raise her head slightly, able to get a look at the raccoon who was her savior. But that was all she would get. The last of her considerable strength was gone, and with it went her consciousness.

Her head rocked to the side, and her entire body fell against the cold, stone ground. Sly's eyes widened and his jaw dropped as the full extent of her injuries were revealed. The blood he had seen running from her temple was one of a whole collection of brutalities she had received.

The jacket that she had been wearing and was so fond off had been ripped apart, and it fell off her body as she fell, revealing her luscious form. Beneath it were what looked like claw marks from some massive, raging beast. Her entire upper torso was riddled with these strikes.

Her breathing, the only discernable sign of life, came in short, gasping hitches.

Her jeans had been shredded till there was little left of them, and her legs were coated in more of the claw marks. There was something else: her left ankle had a massive laceration on it. It looked almost like… like someone, some_thing_ had tried to chew off her foot. Sly could only thank God it hadn't succeeded.

Sly's communicator buzzed, and he answered it. "Sly where the hell are you? Get your furry ass back here right _now!_" Bentley roared with uncharacteristic strength over the line.

"Bentley, Carmelita's hurt badly. Tell Murray to get our here now," Sly said, ignoring Bentley's words.

"What?!? Where _are _you? Ignore what Carmelita's doing and get back here n-!" Sly cut him off.

"Bentley, shut up! Carmelita is hurt badly. Get Murray and tell him to get in his damn van and get out here," The raccoon shouted angrily.

His friend's sharpness took Bentley by surprise. Normally, he himself was the one freaking out, not Sly. _What the hell has this women gotten herself into? _The turtle thought.

Carmelita's body screamed out in agony from the countless wounds lining her shapely form. She was afire with pain, making every second last for its own eternity.

She heard a voice, a familiar one, shouting, somewhere. Normally, she would've remembered the voice in a heartbeat, but the overwhelming sensation of pain she was feeling dominated her reality.

For some inexplicable reason, the voice gave a sense of comfort. She knew she'd heard it before. It must've been someone special. If only she could remember…

"Hey there, beautiful," the voice whispered in her pointed ear.

Sly Cooper. Of all the people to find her, helpless, alone, and probably dying, it happened to be the thief, who, even if he didn't realize it, had confounded her more than anybody else in this world.

"Sly?" she called out weakly, unable to open her eyes.

"I'm right here, Carmelita. Nobodies gonna hurt you," the thief responded.

"S-Sly… am I gonna die?" she asked, her voice barely more than a rasp.

"You're gonna be alright, Carmelita. Murray will be here any second," he answered softly.

Now, she felt the thief's muscular arms cradle her gently, her head resting in his lap. It was a simple, yet caring gesture. Why he was here and not off pulling a heist in the nearest museum no longer mattered. Right now, he was her protector. For once, she needed him, or maybe it wasn't the first time. Maybe, even though she didn't know it, they did need one another.

"Sly, where's Carmelita?" shouted a voice from beyond the alley.

"Murray, she's right here," Sly answered.

"God, what happened to her?" Murray asked.

"I don't know. Let's just get her out of here," Sly answered.

The vixen felt her self being elevated, ever so gently, by Sly's arms. Her head came to rest on the thief's chest, which must've made quite a spectacle to anyone who knew Carmelita. Being carried was not something she cared for. But, for now, she didn't have much of a choice. At it wasn't like she was uncomfortable…

"Sly, do you want me to take her. You look tired," the hippo offered.

"No. I'll take her," Sly answered, almost harshly. Was he being protective? Not exactly the attitude she would expect from the thief she'd tried time and again to through in jail. This guy was just too strange.

Carmelita tried again to open her eyes, to get some sense of where she was. Once more, her sight was denied to her.

"Murray, open the door," Sly ordered.

The hippo complied; she heard the sliding of a door, and felt the raccoon walk forward, towards the sound of the van. Gently, Sly slid into the infamous blue van, still holding her close, like a loved one.

Carmelita's legs were allowed to stretch out across the seat, allowing for some small comfort. Her sensitive ears picked up heavy footsteps, obviously from Murray, running around to the front of the van.

"Murray, go!" Sly shouted. The hippo obeyed immediately, speeding off into the night, the rain still pelting the windshield.

"Hey, Carmelita? You alright?" said a gentle voice in the vixen's ear. Carmelita's good eye opened, seeing Sly's roguish features contracted into a look of concern. "You dozed of for a minute there. Are you feeling any better?" the raccoon asked.

She nodded in response, still not trusting her voice to answer.

"You gave me a real scare. Don't do that again," he said quietly. He sounded genuinely worried. Why would he be worried about her? She was just making his job harder.

"Why the hell would you care, Cooper?" she asked, her voice a raspy hitch.

"Why would I care? Carmelita, you are a very intelligent woman. I _care_ because thieving wouldn't be nearly as fun without you," he said with one of his infamous devil air smiles. The light-fingered thief ran his dexterous hands through Carmelita's raven-black hair. The vixen shivered at his tender touch, surprised that he would make such a caring gesture. Carmelita jerked her head back, pulling away from Cooper's sensual touch.

"Get your filthy hands off me, _criminal_," the officer said, trying to sound fierce.

"What, am I not allowed to show a little affection for my favorite officer of the law?" Sly said, his smile widening.

"You'd better keep those thieving hands to yourself. I can still kick your furry ass any day," she shot back, keeping up her façade.

"Ah, dear Carmelita, defiant to the last. Okay, I'll try to keep myself under control, at least until you recover," Cooper answered.

"Sorry Cooper, but I don't date criminals as a matter of principal," she said.

"What a shame; the most beautiful woman I've ever met, and she won't consider me because of a little thing like a rap sheet the length of my arm," Sly said sarcastically.

"Yeah, things like that tend to put women like me off," she said dryly.

"Hey Sly, we're here," Murray said from the front of the van.

"Excellent. Let's get Carmelita here to a more comfortable place," Sly said back.

"Wait, where's 'here'?" a bemused Carmelita asked.

"Oh, just a humble abode where we might plan out devious operations," Sly answered with a smile.

"Dios, you mean to tell me you're taking me to you hideout?" Carmelita asked.

"Yeah," Sly answered.

"Why me? Of all the honest cops in the world, why me?" she asked to the roof of the van.

"My dear Carmelita, I'm simply offering a hand until you've recovered from your injuries. You can't expect me to drop you off in the state your in," Sly said.

"Just take me to a hospital, now," Carmelita ordered.

"That'll just make it easier for whoever was trying to kill you to finish the job they so very nearly finished tonight. And we wouldn't want that, would we?" the suave raccoon asked, gently massaging her cheek with his gloved hand.

"I told you to keep off me," Carmelita growled.

"Very well, my dear. I'll try to keep myself under control," he said, drawing back his hand. He opened the door of the van. "C'mon, let's get you inside."


	6. Chapter 6: Inner Thinking

_**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters used in this story. They are all property of Sucker Punch. **_

Chapter 6: Inner Thoughts

"Welcome, fair inspector, to our humble abode," Sly said with a mock formal tone, "All the comforts of home, so please, make yourself comfortable. You won't be going anywhere for a while." Sly carried the haggard inspector through the threshold into their impromptu home, placing her gently upon the aging sofa.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Cut the crap, _criminal. _I take absolutely no pleasure in being in your shit hole. Just drop me off at the nearest police station," the still very fiery vixen spat from her seat.

"Dear Carmelita, I've already told you I can't do that," Sly said, wagging a finger tauntingly, as he crouched down in front of her, "Putting you back on the streets isn't the wisest option. Besides, aren't you looking forward to spending some time together? It'll be just like old times," he said with a sly smile.

Carmelita did her best to hide a blush which filled her cheeks. "I think I'll take this case on my own, thank you very much. You're just lucky I can't kick your sorry ass right now," she shot.

"Quite right, getting to look without having to avoid shockpistol rounds is a rare treat," he whispered, "Well, except for the slashes, I'd have to say you look as gorgeous as ever. Speaking of which, Bentley, first aid kit please," Sly requested in a louder voice.

"Pervert," she whispered harshly.

"Carmelita, I'm hurt. You know I have the utmost respect for you," he said, still smiling as Bentley brought in the teams first aid kit.

"Somehow I doubt that," Carmelita said.

Sly pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a gauze pad and a set of bandages from the small plastic kit. "Carmelita, may I see your arm for a moment," he asked, ignoring her last comment. The vixen gingerly stuck out her left arm, which was the more damaged of the two. Sly dabbed some of the clear liquid on the gauze bad, which he then pressed to a large section of her arm. Carmelita grimaced at the stinging sensation, resisting the urge to pull away her arm.

Sly, keeping the pad pressed to her arm, wrapped the bandage around her arm, covering her entire forearm. _'One down, a bunch to go,'_ Sly thought.

"There, all done," Sly said, having finished the last of the wrappings.

"I feel like a mummy," Carmelita complained. And with good reason; most of her arms where wrapped completely with bandages. Her ankle was bandaged, braced, and cushioned on the sofa. Carmelita's stomach had been bandaged as well.

"I thought mummies were old, dried out and ugly. You, my dear, are quite the opposite," Sly commented.

"Stop calling me that," Carmelita growled, referring to being called, his dear.

"What, I'm not allowed to show a little affection for my favorite Interpol officer?" he asked.

"I can do without your "affection"," Carmelita answered.

"Forever defiant. Did I ever tell you that's one of the reasons I fancy you?" Sly asked with a smile.

"Twice, in Paris and Berlin. Both times you said you wished we could share a nice dinner as well," Carmelita answered flatly.

"And she's observant, to boot," Sly finished. "Now, I'm afraid I have to bring up the grizzly subject of your current assignment. As I understand it, you've been assigned to break up the Killer gang. Want some Cooper brand assistance?"

"I can handle myself, Cooper," Carmelita snorted.

"I beg to differ. You're all alone against a massive crime ring, and all I'm saying is that it'll be all the easier with our help," Sly pressed.

"And If I refuse?" Carmelita questioned.

"Well, we'd just have to keep you here. Can't have you running off telling where we're holed up. Sorry, gorgeous," Cooper answered.

Carmelita sighed heavily, trying to find a solution to her predicament. _'Well, he's got me at his mercy, and there's no way I'll be able to close this case without some help. The Chinese are probably useless. _

_**Besides, working with Cooper may be fun,**_

_Wait, the hell did that come from? How fun can allying oneself with a criminal be? Whatever. I don't have much of a choice now. At least I can trust him, I think,'_

"Okay, Cooper, have it your way. I'll agree to work with you if, and only if, you keep those thieving paws of yours to yourself and off of me," Carmelita consented.

"Perish the thought," he answered, smiling gleefully. "Hey, Bentley, Murray, she agreed to help!" Sly called out to his companions in another room.

Carmelita groaned. _'This is going to be the worst case of my life.' _Sly broke her out of her self pity with a friendly pat on the back. "C'mon, I'll get you another blanket."

The next few hours were occupied by whatever means of entertainment where on hand. Sly managed to win five dollars from Bentley in a poker game, with Murray watching, munching on a sandwich, while Carmelita watched a Chinese soap opera, which for some reason had English subtitles.

The guys switched over to playing video games, at Carmelita's consent, of course. The vixen rolled over, her back to the television, and tried to get some sleep. _'Things will seem better in the morning,' _she thought to herself, knowing they probably wouldn't. _'I need a vacation.' _

The clock Bentley had placed on a table read 11:00. Sly Cooper sat in a dusty armchair, gazing at Carmelita, thinking. _'Who would do this to her? This is exactly why those pencil-pushing twits in charge of Interpol shouldn't send out single officers on a case of this magnitude,' _he thought in anger.

'_**Face it man, the only reason you're being this protective is because you love her**,' _his voice of wisdom chided. Sly blushed at his own thinking. How could she have this effect on him? He was just… infatuated with her.

'_Forget it. She's a cop. Besides, she already said she hated me. She wouldn't take a second look at me. Ah well, one can always dream. Everybody needs to have something to fantasize about. She's nice, but she'll never be with me,' _He thought sadly. So often had he dreamed about holding Carmelita, kissing her, and, well, other, less appropriate things that you can probably assume. The raccoon stood up from his seat, and gently walked over to the sleeping form of Carmelita.

"Tell ya what," Sly said to the sleeping vixen, "I'll take the sofa. You can have my bed," he told her, gently picking up the girl. Cooper carried her into his bed room, laying her on the soft mattress.

Sly spoke to her once more, "You're really quiet a beautiful girl, Carmelita. I know I've told you before, but I want you to know I really mean it. Perhaps nobody's told you that before. Well, good night, dearest. Get well soon. I know I'll need your help," Sly whispered. The thief bent down next to the vixen and, ever so gently, placed a soft kiss on her cheek. "Sweet dreams, gorgeous," he whispered, before turning to leave.

Once Carmelita had made sure Cooper was out of earshot, she sat up; looking at the door he'd left through. The vixen brought up a paw to the spot where the thief had kissed her. _'Does he actually care?' _she asked herself.

'**_Well duh! If he didn't care about you, then what the hell was that?'_ **her inner voice replied.

The vixen blushed. _'There's that voice again. Can't I get a moment of piece, even in my own mind?' _That voice, which had been there for God knows how long, had always been telling her the same thing; that Cooper was somehow different from all the other criminals, from all other men, for that matter. For all his flirting, he clearly held her in high regards. _'Maybe I do want him to like me. It would be nice if, for once, somebody wasn't looking at me from the neck down. He seems like a nice enough guy… Wait a minute! No matter how nice he is, he's still a criminal. And all criminals are the same, right? He's just like every other guy, just like every other guy,' _she repeated over and over in her head, as she began falling asleep..

_She was alone, with him. Nobody else was around. It was just the two of them. She was sitting in his lap, resting her head on his chest. A pair of muscular arms encircled her, shielding her. She sighed happily. She was with the man she loved. No more politics, no more lies, no more anything. There was just him, and her, just the way she liked it. _

_The vixen kissed the raccoon on whose lap she sat, fulfilling her burning desire, or at least part of it. The 'G Rated' part. The rest could wait, for a while anyhow. He blushed slightly, making her giggle. _

"_What's this? Is Mr. tough-guy blushing?" she taunted, smiling._

"_Stop teasing, love," he begged quietly, though in a good-humored tone._

"_Oh no, you're not off the hook yet. I spent a good 3 years chasing you, and now I've got you right where I want you," she answered with a sexy smile. She kissed the thief in her arms once more, though decidedly more heatedly and passionately than last time. She pressed her tongue against the former thief's teeth, begging entrance, which he allowed. The two played back and forth, teasing and taunting one another through the kiss. Eventually, she drew back, breaking the kiss. _

_She went back to resting her head on the raccoon's chest. For whatever reason, he had no shirt on, much to the vixen's delight. He stroked her raven black hair softly and affectionately. _

"_I love you, Sly" she said sweetly._

"_I love you, too, Carmelita," he answered. _

Carmelita's fantasy ended as she awoke from her pleasant sleep. She found herself in Sly's bed, alone, the sky outside still dark. Brushing a few stray strands of hair from before her eyes, Carmelita thought to herself about her dream. _'What was that supposed to mean? Why can't I get that damned criminal out of my mind?_

'**_Stop calling him that! He may be a criminal, but he's a good man,' _**her inner voice commanded.

Carmelita's mind silenced for a moment, stunned at what she'd heard. _'That… was decidedly creepy,' _she thought quietly. As far as she knew, being yelled at by a voice in the back of her head was not normal. Well, she was far from normal, herself, so it fit. Deciding enough was enough, she fell back onto the pillow, trying to fall asleep.

In a different room, Sly Cooper stared up at the ceiling from his place on the sofa, silent in thought. _'Of all the women in the world, why her? Why couldn't I fall for a thief? Well, that would just make things to easy. Would dad be upset? Probably.' _The master thief sighed. _'This has got to be karma for something.' _The downtrodden raccoon turned on his side, making yet another attempt at getting the vixen off his mind, if only for a few hours. His mind quieted, at least for time being, he slipped into the heavy silence of a dream-filled sleep.


	7. Chapter 7: Reconnaissance

_Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine._

Chapter 7

An overcast sky dimmed the rising of the new day sun, but the weak rays of light were still enough to wake Carmelita from her sleep. She'd always been a light sleeper, and today was no different. Sitting up with her back to the headboard, she thought about the events of last night, still fresh in her mind. Turning to stare out the windows, she saw the endless expanse of Beijing's industrial sector beginning to sputter to life under the downcast light of the new day. She gave an exasperated sigh, turning her thoughts to Cooper.

_Personal life later. Right now, I've got a job to do, _the vixen thought. Still weary from being attacked, the vixen slid out from under the covers, placing a foot on the hardwood floor. Pushing herself upwards, she felt a stab of pain from her left foot, and fell back onto the bed with a frustrated grunt. Not one to be defeated by something as trivial as an injured leg, the vixen pushed herself up once more, this time leaning against the wall for support. Invigorated by this small step forward, she hobbled towards the door, eager to get to work.

The hallway into which she walked bore all the signs of age imaginable. Dust coated the floorboards, cobwebs hung in the corners, and the walls had long lost any color, having become a dull grey. The only light came from a window at the end of the hall, which allowed a few meager shafts of light to reign in.

The vixen stumbled along, making considerable process until she reached the stairs. Even though there were less than ten steps, it was would still be difficult. Sly's bed room had actually been part of a separate apartment, as there were only two beds in the other. Muttering a curse at the new obstacle, she gently put her good foot down on the first stair, being careful not to put any pressure on her injured limb. Having conquered the first stair, Carmelita continued down to the first floor, where the Cooper gang was already planning their first strike. As she descended, she could hear Bentley discussing what sounded like an infiltration operation. Even though they were supposed to be working together, Carmelita decided to stay out of sight, only peaking around the corner enough to see what was happening.

"To sum it up, Sly, you'll locate one of the gang's members, and track his activities. Once he's led you to the hideout, Murray and I will infiltrate and bug their headquarters. Remember, this specific gang is a just a small branch of the overall group. We won't be making any big progress today," Bentley said, wrapping up his instructions. Sly had seated himself in the easy-chair, gloved hands folded in contemplative thought. Murray was reclining on the sofa, and Bentley was standing in the front, facing the other two, hands folded behind his back, standing as straight as he could, in an attempt to make himself look large and important. Carmelita had to suppress a chuckle at the diminutive turtle.

"Hey Bent, what about Carmelita?" Sly asked, still sitting, "You think she'll be okay on her own?"

"She's not a child. She'll be fine. But that's not our top priority right now. Let's just get moving," the turtle replied. He collected what looked to be communication headsets, and instructed his two companions to follow him. The three thieves walked over to the door, which lead to stairwell for the entire building. Before leaving, Sly turned, picked up a pen and paper, and scribbled something, which he left in plain sight on dulled countertop.

"Whatcha doin?" Bentley asked.

"Just leaving a note for Carmelita. I let her know well be back around midnight," he answered, finishing his writing. "Let's get the show on the road," the thief said, turning to his friends standing in the hallway. The infamous gang left, leaving the apartment silent.

Coming down the last few steps into the main living area, gazing to where her current companions had left. She hobbled across the small room, picking up the small note that the ambiguous thief had left her.

_Carmelita,_

_Sorry to leave you so early. The gang and I are doing a little recon. Be back around midnight. There's food in the cupboards. _

_Sly_

_P.S. I'll get you some crutches on the way back._

The vixen put the note back down. Looking around the spartan apartment, she saw that it housed no refrigerator. While they were fantastic thieves, Bentley, Murray, and Sly were clearly not good housekeepers. She sighed, seeing nothing ahead of her but a long day doing whatever was possible to stave of boredom. Then, it struck her that all her luggage was in the hotel she was supposed to have stayed in. Now, not only was she prevented from doing her job, but she didn't even have a book to read.

"Well, maybe Cooper or one of his buddies has something worth reading," she said to herself. However, she was interrupted in her search for suitable literature when her stomach gave a deep growl, and it was then that she realized she was ravenously hungry. She'd barely even eaten anything the night before. After finding a bowl, spoon and some dry cereal, she sat down at the table, munching on the chocolaty substance.

"I'll have to contact Interpol at some point," she muttered to herself. "God, how easy it would be to just find a phone and lead them straight to Cooper. But, he did save me. I guess I owe him that much." Other officers had told her that talking to yourself was a manifestation of insanity, but for her, it just seemed to help.

"Nothing's ever easy, is it?" she asked no-one, looking out of the dirty window over the city.

"Hey Bent, you think Carmelita will be okay?" Sly asked through his communicator, looking through his binoccucom at the massive crowd across the street, looking for two individuals that were confirmed members of the gang. Bentley's information had led them to believe this street was a place frequented by their targets. As a fellow criminal, Sly could tell why it would be a good place to hang around. There were alleys, low rooftops, and little shops that all probably had either a backdoor or a basement; a thief's playground.

"_She'll be fine, Sly. She's not four. Just keep looking. Remember, both have Chinese calligraphy tattooed on their arms. They shouldn't be hard to spot." _

"Give me a minute," Sly answered, making yet another sweep of the hundreds of people streaming across the busy thoroughfare. _'If they found her apartment, they track her to our safehouse,' _Cooper thought. _'No. There's no way they could. Not this fast. She'll be safe, for now.'_ He had to lock those thoughts out of his mind. If he wasn't focused, he'd get caught. "Oh, wait, I see them," Sly said, finally spotting his targets on the opposite side of street. One was a muscular snow leopard, and the other a tall, lanky tiger, both looking about their twenties. As Bentley said, both had Chinese characters tattooed on their arms, revealed by the sleeveless, black shirts worn by both. The snow leopard had a poorly concealed firearm beneath a thick black vest.

The agile thief leapt down from his perch in favor of the cover of a shady back alley fire escape. Operating in broad daylight put Sly on edge. As a naturally nocturnal animal, the sun made him feel open and vulnerable. Gazing across the street, he saw the two gangsters walk into the alley directly across from where he was standing. Focusing the binocucom, he saw the leopard knock on what had appeared to be part of the building. He began to speak with someone who must've been inside and, having been allowed entrance, he and his companion walked in.

"Okay, Bentley, they've gone into a building, which looks like their headquarters. I'm gonna get close and check it out," Sly said.

"_Understood. Just don't be stupid,"_.

"It's me, why are you worried?" Sly asked with an unseen smile before closing the channel. "Okay, looks like I'll just jump this," the thief said to himself. He turned to walk to the other end of the fire escape, before turning around and sprinting as fast as possible. Stepping up onto the railing, the raccoon leapt into the air, sailing over the crowded street for a split second, before landing in a roll on a rooftop on the opposite side of the street.

Opening up a channel on the communicator, Sly spoke to his friend on the other end, "Bentley, I'm on the building. Can you give me the layout?" he asked.

"_Sure thing Sly. Just give me a minute… Okay, here it is. Looks like you have two entry options. You could either go through the ventilation shaft from the side of the building, or you could just break down the door and go in the way the targets went through."_

"Which is better?" the thief asked.

"_Well, if you break down the door, there'll almost certainly be guards waiting, but the room isn't too big, so don't expect much resistance. If you go through the ventilation shaft, you'll be able to navigate the entire building without resistance."_

"Well, the ventilation shaft it is."

"_Hold on. There's a catch. Our goal here is to gather info on the higher ups in Killer. There's a room that looks like an office on the third floor. Only problem is that the shaft entrance is on the second floor, so you would have to climb straight up and some point."_

"Understood. I'll take the vent shaft." Sly decided.

"_Okay. The shaft ends in the office room. Once you're there, make sure there's no one around, and plant the bug in your pouch in the office in a cabinet or something. Then search the place for any useful documents, take a photo of them, and get out of the building. Murray will pick you up in a civilian van, license plate CAW-3115."_

"Alright Bent, I'll get on that. Sly out," the master thief said, safely packing his communicator in his pouch. "Now, to find that entrance," he muttered to himself as he walked over to the edge of the roof and carefully looked over, scanning the wall for one of the heating and cooling units. He spotted it one story down from where he stood, only about half as wide and as tall as himself. The thief swung over the edge of the roof, sliding down a pipe before landing gracefully atop the small machine. "So how do I get in?" he wondered aloud to himself, "Well, this thing will just have to go. Guess there's only one way to do that."

The thief leapt into the air, smashing his feet down as hard as he could on the aged machinery. It easily gave way, as he'd hoped, and fell from beneath his feet. As the broken unit fell to the ground, the agile raccoon grasped the now open edge of the ventilation shaft with one paw, his cane in his other screeching against the metal as he hooked it on the edge. With a grunt he pulled himself into the narrow shaft, his shoulders, slender as they were, barely fitting past the cold metal walls.

"It's chilly in here," Sly muttered as he crawled down the shaft, searching for a way up to the office. Several minutes spent vainly searching the maze of shafts found Sly with bruised elbows and knees, frustrated, and now completely loss in a dangerous building. The raccoon cursed beneath his breath, angry at his inability to navigate a building. He started down another shaft that didn't look quite as grey as the others.

"Finally!" Sly nearly shouted with joy, finding the vertical shaft. The agile raccoon pushed himself into the tight shaft, placing his paws on either side of the duct. Sly grunted as he pushed onto the walls and pulled himself out. Sly pressed his back into the wall, shifting his feet to apply pressure to the opposite wall. The muscles in his legs tensed as he slid upward, his shirt being pulled down from the friction. The front of the thief's collar strained up against his neck. He pulled it back down to avoid being strangled. Inch by inch, foot by foot, Sly pulled himself closer and closer to the floor above him.

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_(A/N: I know not a lot happened in this chapter, but I wanted to get this posted. As always, please review)_


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